Parchment
by ThoseGreyMalfoyEyes
Summary: "Write." Came the very unexpected answer from his aloof, golden haired friend. "Write it all." When Elrond returns to Imladris after the Battle of the Last Alliance, a certain elf helps him find a way to cope with his loss. Many years later, a piece of parchment is stumbled upon by an un-expecting and totally oblivious Hobbit.


**Hi everyone! Sorry I've been really quiet these past few months. Work has been a pain in the backside so I just want to thank everyone who has been patient with me, especially those waiting for beta work! Here is just a little one-shot I knocked up this evening as a thank you gift!**

 **Anything recognisable belongs to J.R.R Tolkien!**

 **Please read and review!**

* * *

"Write." Came the very unexpected answer from his aloof, golden haired friend. "Write it all."

"Where to begin?" He asked weakly, looking up into the older elf's eyes.

"The beginning." Glorfindel answered with a shrug.

"Will it help?" The dark haired elf asked again, his silver eyes begging for the answers to so many of his questions. "Will it go away?"

"I can't answer that mellon-nín." Glorfindel replied, approaching the Imladris lord, kneeling down at the side of his chair and taking one of his hands into his own. "Don't think Elrond. Just write." He pushed a quill and a scroll of parchment into the lord's hands and stood up, placing a kiss on his friend's forehead before leaving the chamber.

So Elrond wrote until the sun rose above the clouds, bringing with it the pink hue of dawn and the song of the birds. His tears had soaked the parchment, his hand had shaken through some of the verses and inkblots spattered his work but he was finished. A small portion of grief had lifted from his heart and he could finally breathe once again. He stood and made his way, through his halls, to the library where he shoved the piece of parchment in-between the pages of a book of poetry before turning to bathe, change and face the rest of the day.

* * *

2,952 Years later…

The curious hobbit looked around the many bookcases in awe. The company had been in Imladris for over a week now (much to Thorin's chagrin) and it had not once stopped amazing him. He stood on his very tiptoes and pulled down a dusty leather book that looked like it hadn't been touched in hundreds of years. Bilbo opened the yellowed pages and let out a small sound of surprise when a piece of loose parchment fell to the floor.

"What it this?" He asked himself, picking up the parchment and studying the symbols upon it. "It is an ancient language indeed..." He continued, placing it down upon a reading desk, the book laying on the floor, quite forgotten. "Some form of elvish…" He jumped up and quickly ran down one of the isles of books, returning moments later with a large tome of elvish language and sat down to work.

* * *

Almost one year later…

"My heart is gladdened to see your safe return to us, Master Baggins of the shire." Elrond greeted, climbing down the steps to the stone courtyard where Bilbo and Gandalf stood, having just crossed the bridge into Rivendell.

"Lord Elrond." Bilbo returned, bowing before the master of the last homely house.

"Come little one, you must rest and eat, for I understand that your journey was tiresome and long." Bilbo allowed himself to be ushered into the halls of Elrond and the lord himself led him to his chambers. "I will send someone along to collect you for dinner, but for now I bid you relax and sleep some." The elf said with a smile, ushering Gandalf into his office and leaving Bilbo to his thoughts. The hobbit sat his bag on his bed and opened it to pull out some fresh sleepwear when he remembered a curious piece of parchment he had copied, upon his last visit. He pulled out his own translation and sat down upon the soft mattress, reading it to himself.

* * *

That evening, during dinner…

Bilbo stabbed a boiled potato with his fork, still pondering upon the piece of poetry that had occupied his mind all afternoon.

"Lord Elrond," He started… "When last I was here I stumbled upon a piece of prose that I became very fond of. I wondered if I might share it within the hall of fire this evening." Elrond gave him a warm smile.

"Of course little one." He replied. "We would be honored for you to read to us." The meal progressed without much more conversation, the hobbit enjoying instead the music of Lindir, Lord Elrond's finest musician. When the food had cleared, all those present at the table moved into the hall for the continued festivities of the evening.

"I believe you wished to share something with us Master Baggins?" Elrond asked kindly, looking down upon the small Hobbit.

"Ah yes." Bilbo said, standing up from his seat. "I translated this from one of your books Lord Elrond. I only managed two verses though as it as a very long poem and I only had a book on ancient Elvish to assist me."

"Let us hear what you have little one." Elrond replied with a gentle smile. "Perhaps we can finish it off for you if it is familiar." Bilbo nodded and held up his piece of parchment.

" _Gil-galad was an Elven-king."_ He started grandly, not noticing how the lord beside him stiffened.

" _Of him the harpers sadly sing;  
the last whose realm was fair and free  
between the Mountains and the Sea." _

Elrond's eyes glazed instantly and he sat, stiffened and unflinching as he listened to the words he had written almost 3,000 years ago. Across the hall, a golden haired elf watched his lord closely, concerned for the memories he knew that the verse would disturb. He had never heard the prose that Elrond had written after their return to Imladris and the he had long thought it destroyed by the lord himself.

" _His sword was long, his lance was keen.  
His shining helm afar was seen;  
the countless stars of heaven's field  
were mirrored in his silver shield." _

Bilbo finished to applause from many of the elves within the room. He glanced towards Elrond who managed a thin, weak smile.

" _But long ago he rode away,"_ The Elf lord continued, his voice strained although still easily heard in the silence that had now befallen the hall of fire. _  
_

" _and where he dwelleth none can say;  
for into darkness fell his star  
in Mordor where the shadows are." _

"You know of it!" Bilbo said happily bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Could you repeat that verse so I may copy it down please?"

"Perhaps in the morning Bilbo." Gandalf replied for his friend. "You should get some rest this evening." Bilbo nodded before bidding everyone a good evening and disappearing to his chambers.

* * *

The dark haired elf paced his chambers, unable to prevent the images that had arisen in his mind. Blue, gold, fire, a flash of red, a falling star…

"Elrond?" Sounded his friend's voice from behind his door.

"Enter Glorfindel, please." The lord answered, looking up as the ancient elf entered his chambers.

"I thought you had destroyed that parchment long ago." The golden haired male said softly, closing the door and approaching his friend, ushering Elrond onto the sofa before pouring and handing him a glass of elvish wine. "All this time you had hidden it in the library."

"I couldn't bring myself to look at it again but neither could I burn it." The half-elven replied weakly, rolling the strong alcohol around the tumbler before, taking a large swig. "I never thought anyone would find it."

"Curse the curiosity of Hobbits." Glorfindel smirked. A flicker of amusement crossed Elrond's face; however, it was quickly replaced by shadow.

"Would you stay with me tonight?" He asked quietly, downing the rest of the liquor and looking into Glorfindel's blue eyes.

"Of course, my friend." The elf replied, pulling out a book from Elrond's private collection before kicking off his boots and taking a seat in one of the large armchairs that sat beside the sofa, where Elrond now lay. He opened the large tome and started reading aloud, his musical voice, soothing as it rang out against the silence of the night.

* * *

Many hours later Glorfindel breathed a sigh of relief when Elrond's grey eyes glazed over in sleep and the elf's breathing slowed.

"Good night mellon-nín." He whispered, pulling a blanket over his lord before curling up himself in his armchair and falling asleep in minutes.

* * *

 **What do you think? I had the burning curiosity to find out who wrote 'The Fall of Gil-Galad' and since Tolkien gave no name... why not Elrond?**

 **Please leave a review!**


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